Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2)

by Andrea Randall

  Roland’s voice, too, is unchanged. Calm, if not slightly peppy. “And, as you’re aware, I’m also a member of this faculty and am aware of the hundreds of suspicious concerns we receive on many students. Never, to my knowledge, has anyone been assigned a shepherd after the first claim.”

  I always forget that Roland is a professor here. He’s the spiritual liaison, for goodness sake. I see him with students at the coffee shop all the time, and I’m sure he meets with them elsewhere. If he wasn’t my father, I’d totally love a guy like him to talk to about how insane this place can be.

  You could just talk to him anyway.

  “And yo sure you’re up to the challenge of watching over her during break?”

  “I’m an adult, Hershel, and she’s a child. My child. I think we’ll manage.”

  I want to fist-bump the air, but refrain, stepping away from the door when I hear what I assume are Roland’s footsteps moving toward me.

  “Ready?” he says with a stressed smile while we move through the office.

  I nod, waiting until we’re outside the walls of the administration building to speak. “Thanks for playing along with my bluff. I needed him off my back.”

  Roland stops on the last step, causing me to turn around to face him. “Bluff or not, Kennedy, you’re coming home with me during the break.”

  “What? No. That was just to get out of that stupid shepherding thing—”

  Roland puts up his hand, and a stern line forms across his mouth. “No.” He lowers his voice to a near whisper, linking his arm through mine as we move further away from the building. “Don’t think for a minute that he won’t be checking in on us.”

  “Spying?” My throat constricts with anger and tears. My mind is racing around how to get out of this, how to tell my mom, Mollie—no. No. I’m going home for break. I’m not spending six weeks with Roland.

  “Follow-up,” Roland lets go of my arm once we’re halfway across the quad.

  “But, spying,” I reiterate. He’s silent, and that’s the only answer I need. “Well … what now? I want to go home! I don’t want—sorry … it’s not that I don’t want to meet your parents, or whatever, but I wasn’t planning on that. Yet.”

  Roland cups his hand over his mouth, an intense introspection working through his eyes. “I’ll still take you to see your mom and family. But not for the whole six weeks. I do have a lot of traveling to do, that wasn’t a lie. And, even better, Dean Baker really is going to that family issues conference in Georgia.” The sarcastic tone of voice startles me. He growls a little, as he gets lost in thought.

  This is the most undone I’ve ever seen him, and I’m lost as to how to respond. This is my fault.

  “I’m sorry again,” I start. “I … I know neither of us wants this, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

  Roland looks at me with wide, sympathetic eyes. Taking my shoulders in his hands, the hard lines around his eyes soften. “Kennedy,” he whispers. “No. I’m sorry. I do want this. I’ve always wanted you in my life, to meet my parents, all of it.”

  “But your … frustration …”

  “That’s at Dean Baker. He’s the head of my unofficial lynching committee. And …”

  “What?” I prompt, unaccustomed to seeing him at a loss for words.

  Roland cracks a grin. “How are we going to explain this to your mother?”

  Finally, I crack and release a few nervous tears. “Can you call her, please? Tell her she can call Dean Baker if she wants, but explain that we presented it as an already solidified deal … I don’t know. Just … please deal with her? I can’t. If I tell her anything about him, I’ll tell her everything, then she’ll be marching here with Connecticut’s most cut-throat lawyers and, honestly, no one wants that.” I’m rambling, but thinking of the look on Mom’s face when she hears I’ll be largely MIA during break is heartbreaking and frightening at the same time.

  “No worries,” Roland finally says with a charming smile. “I’ve got it covered. It may be many years since I last debated with her in our politics class, but I know how to negotiate with her.”

  Naked. That’s how I feel whenever Roland or Mom talk about each other like they’re different people from a different time and place. Really, that’s what they are to each other, but the way Roland is looking at me makes me want to wrap myself in a blanket.

  Like I’m the product of two people who loved each other.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Set Me on Fire

  Kennedy.

  “You’re kidding.” Eden’s mouth hangs open so far her gum nearly falls out.

  I shake my head slowly, snapping my gum. “Nope.”

  She looks around our room like someone just told her Santa Claus shot the Easter Bunny. But, it’s just the two of us, finishing up some packing before we depart for our break. Bridgette had some last-minute volunteer work to do this afternoon, which is giving Eden and I some rare alone time. It’s not that I wouldn’t trust Bridge with this information, but I’d like to take it one person at a time, as needed, and Eden and I have grown close, as the semester has gone on.

  I’ve just told her everything I had to tell. About my first meeting with Dean Baker, my most recent one with him and Roland, through the phone conversation I just ended with my feral-voiced mother. Conversation is a loose term for what took place, given I said about ten words during the fifteen-minute tirade that started with how dare I go to Trent’s house and put myself in that position (despite her knowing exactly where I was going that night), through how dare I request to spend break with Roland. I know she knows the last part was far more complicated than a “request,” but she was angry.

  Is angry.

  “Back up a second.” Eden blinks rapidly as if that will help things make sense.

  “To where?” I chuckle.

  “Dean Baker threatened you?” She talks in the whisper of someone involved in a murder-mystery.

  I nod. “I mean, worse things have happened in the world, but, yeah.”

  I’ve had weeks to realize how preposterous that whole meeting was. Yes, Dean Baker showed his true colors as a villain to be reckoned with. But, the good news for me is that he doesn’t have anything but his two swollen legs to stand on. He’s teetering on a precarious ledge.

  “And you haven’t told anyone? Besides Roland?”

  “And Matt,” I add. I leave out the bit about the underground campus warriors suiting up for battle against the administration. I still don’t know how I feel about all of that, and what’s more is I don’t know if Jonah has told Eden anything about it.

  Eden leans against her wall. “It’s like a movie, or something. How did Dean Baker find out about the party you went to?”

  I shrug. “I doubt he did, honestly. And, even if someone from here knew, which is unlikely, or someone from home sent something in, it doesn’t matter. There aren’t any pictures, which leads me to believe he was taking a shot in the dark.”

  “He’s got amazing aim,” she murmurs.

  Her humor catches me off guard and I burst out into near-hysterical laughter.

  “What?” Eden asks, falling into a fit of her own giggles.

  “That was funny,” I assure her. “Refreshingly funny.”

  Wiping laugh-tears away from her eyes, Eden regains her composure. “How can I help?”

  “I …” I trail off. “I don’t know.”

  “Roland lives at New Life, why are you packing so much?” Eden gestures to my suitcase.

  “Because for the next two weeks we’re going to go to his parents house, then to some family issues conference in freakin’ Georgia. Only then will we finally return back here.”

  Eden furrows her brow. “I thought you said you guys were going to see your mom.”

  I sigh. “She’s going to come here when we get back. When she saw all the traveling I’d be doing, she kind of martyred and offered to come to Roland’s in mid-January.”

  I originally protested not seeing my mom—my fa
mily—on Christmas. But, the more I thought about it, the more I realized this will be good for me. I’ve claimed all year that I want to know my roots, and I can’t get to them without a shovel and a little dirt on my hands.

  “Where do Roland’s parents live?” I love that Eden’s comfortable calling him by his first name when we’re talking together. It’s far preferable to Pastor Roland or your dad.

  Laying a CU Sweatshirt on top of my suitcase, I stop mid-bubble-blow and look up. “I … I have no clue. I assume Ohio? Or Minnesota, maybe? I know he grew up in Ohio … right?” I sit on my bed, exhausted and chuckling at my lack of knowledge. “Give me a sec.” I pick up the phone and dial Roland’s number.

  “Hey you,” he answers cheerfully. “All packed up? I see you got a B on your OT exam. Good work!”

  I hold the phone out in front of me, staring at it puzzled. “I did?” I finally reply. “How do you … never mind. I forget you’re faculty. Anyway, where is it, exactly, that your parents live?”

  “Villa Hills.”

  “You say that like I have a clue.”

  “Oh, right,” he chuckles, “sorry. It’s in Northern Kentucky.”

  “What?” I whine. “Seriously? I thought you were from the Mid-West.”

  Eden’s eyes widen in curiosity. It’s only then I remember she’s from Kentucky, so I should refrain from more verbal judgment.

  Roland laughs into the phone. “It’s twenty minutes from the Mid-West, and they moved there when I was in my twenties. Don’t worry, no one will bite. You’ll be here by dinner?”

  “Yes,” I mumble, unenthusiastically, in to the phone. “How long of a drive is it?”

  “Five-and-a-half hours, or so. Which is why we’ll leave in the morning.”

  “All right, see you in a little while.” I end the call and stare blankly at Eden.

  “Where do they live?” she asks again.

  “A place called Villa Hills?” I shrug.

  Eden leaps from her bed with the highest pitch squeal I’ve heard from her yet, and tackle hugs me onto my bed.

  “What?” I yelp back, shaking my face free from her bouncy curls.

  Sitting up, Eden grabs my shoulders. “That’s only a half hour from me!”

  “Seriously?” I shriek back, actually enthusiastic.

  She nods and bounces while I sigh the longest breath of relief I’ve sighed in weeks. Sure, I’m grateful to hear I got a B on my OT exam, meaning I ended the semester with a B in the hardest class I’ve ever taken. But, this news of Eden’s proximity to Roland’s parents means that for the two weeks I’m shacked up with them, I have an escape.

  “And,” she adds, holding up a finger, “it’s only twenty minutes from Jonah. He lives in Delhi, Ohio.”

  I hold out my hands and tilt my chin to the sky. “Thank you, Jesus.”

  Eden mimics my pose and giggles some more.

  “So we can hang out, right?” I ask, just to be sure.

  She slaps my knee. “Heck yes!” It’s the closest I’ve heard her come to a swear. “And we can take a road trip to visit Jonah. Or he can pick you up on his way to see me, or whatever. Either way, we’re good. Where is that Georgia conference you’re going to?”

  I shrug. “I don’t even know what it’s called.”

  Eden reaches for her phone, thumbing through it with a curious look on her face.

  “What?” I prompt, nudging her arm.

  “Does this look familiar?” She turns her screen toward me.

  Family Values Conference Tour. The picture beneath it holds a shiny, smiling family, with even shinier teeth. They’re of completely mixed races in a clear over-attempt to look diversified.

  “That looks like the brochure I saw at Roland’s last Sunday.” Roland and I have resumed post-church lunch dates. I find it a surprisingly relaxing way to end my week; just him and me kicking back in his kitchen eating roast beef sandwiches with our phones off. He says he welcomes the break from the bustling that can come after a Sunday service. He’ll have to accept invitations from others to lunch at some point, he says, but for now, we like our routine.

  “Well, duh!” Eden exclaims. “Look where it is!”

  Moving my eyes back down to the screen. “Rome. Seriously? That’s where Matt lives!”

  “I know! You’ve lucked right out, Missy. You’ll get to see, like, all your CU friends during break.”

  I huff, trying to stay amused. The fact is, I haven’t talked to Matt much since I chased him down on the quad a few days before our OT final. He’s been aloof, and I’ve been busy trying not to fail out and being okay with B’s. He knows about what went down with Roland and Dean Baker, but I haven’t given lots of details. I send a quick text to Matt.

  Me: Are you gone yet?

  Matt: No.

  I had assumed not. Students are allowed on campus until noon tomorrow. Knowing Matt, he’ll lock his dorm room door at 11:59 in an effort to spend as little time at home as possible.

  Me: Meet me at the light post in two minutes.

  Matt: Bossy much?

  Me: Jerk much?

  I know the last text is rude, but he doesn’t get to start teasing with me after basically avoiding me for a week.

  “Where you going?” Eden asks, watching me put on my coat.

  “Just gotta talk to Matt for a sec.”

  “Light post?”

  I nod, offering a small wave before closing the door behind me.

  The light post is just that—an old-style looking light post that sits on the fork in the sidewalk between a set of men’s dorms and women’s dorms. Since we’re not allowed inside the dorms of the opposite sex, and loitering in front of the windows is tacky and frowned upon, quick in-person conversations are unofficially held in this area. Archaic as it sounds, it’s nice to have a plan when grumbling about the rules gets you nowhere.

  Jogging up the small hill, I see Matt’s broad back leaning against the pole. Football finished two weeks ago, CU’s final game commencing just before finals started. I don’t know what his plans are for all that muscle in the off-season, but I hope he finds good use for them beyond punching someone—which is what he always looks like he wants to do.

  “Took ya long enough,” he mumbles slyly, not turning to face me.

  “To what? Have enough of your crap?” I shoot back.

  He lowers his head, and instantly I feel bad.

  “Sorry,” I say. “Look, I don’t care about the last couple of weeks. I just need to know if you’re staying in Rome during the entire break.”

  Matt snorts. “Like I have anywhere else to go.”

  “Stop being melodramatic.” Stepping in front of him, I finally get a full view of his face. And a fresh-looking black eye. “Oh, God,” I groan loudly. “It’s finally happened. You got in a fight.”

  He flinches as my fingers trace the purple swell around his left eye, but he doesn’t move my hand. “No, there was no fight. Just me and some teammates horsing around at our post-season party.”

  I shake my head. “Why are men such fools? Anyway, you know I’m staying with Roland for break.”

  He nods. “Because Dean Baker is a—”

  I put my hand up. “That. Yes. Anyway, turns out, I’ve got to go to the Family Values thingy with him.”

  Matt’s eyes focus on me for the first time in the conversation. “Which one is he going to?”

  Tapping my index finger off the tip of his nose, I smile. “Rome, baby. We have to meet up.”

  Matt smiles, putting his hands on my shoulders. “I’ll one up you, baby,” he teases. “Roland has had plans for six months to stay at our house during the conference.”

  “Really?” I’m starting to sound like Eden with all my high-pitched shrieking. “But … will he still stay there with me? Like … rules and stuff?”

  Matt twists his lips. “Talk to him. You’re a quick thinker.”

  I arch an eyebrow. “You want a sleepover, Mr. Wells?”

  He blushes, rolling his eyes before
looking down and scuffing his feet a little. It’s almost just like a movie. A very PG movie. This is the most flirting I’ve done in five months, and it feels borderline erotic. My voice is all breathy, like a soap opera actress with mile-high hair and bad makeup. Matt looks torn on how to answer, and then I remember the whole no-hugging moratorium because he might actually like me, or something. My eyes sting with tears realizing that I crave his touch. His arms around me, and the sweet smell that comes from between his neck and shoulders.

  “Date me,” I blurt out.

  Matt’s eyes bulge. “Excuse me?” He chuckles indignantly, shaking his head.

  “Date me, Matt. So I can hug you and hold your hand, and … please. Don’t make me beg. That’s hardly chivalrous.” I sniff, but laugh to try to cover it up.

  Matt drops his hands and leans back against the pole. “No.”

  My stomach sinks so fast, I’m knocked off-balance. “What?”

  “Don’t ruin this.” He growls a little. Sticky gravel coursing through the back of his throat.

  “Me? You’re the one who won’t hug me anymore because you’re afraid it messes with my virtue, or something.”

  “That’s what this is about? You want a hug?”

  I hold my arms out, and nearly shout, “Yes! Please! I want a hug. From my best friend.”

  “So you don’t want to date me?”

  Clenching my fists and dropping them to my sides, I take a deep breath. “Yes I do, Matt. I want to date you. Because you’re my best friend and I don’t want to date anyone who knows less about me than you do. I trust you, and value you and … wait. Why am I pleading here? Why are you saying no?” I take one step back, realizing I inched closer to him during my rant.

  “Kennedy,” Matt takes a deep breath, running a hand over his face and back over his head, “you deserve way better than me. Don’t trust me. You’ll just get hurt.” Pushing himself off the post, Matt walks in the direction of his dorm without another word.